Cloud of Anguish
by medicgirl
Summary: When Sam and Dean interrupt a dark ritual, thing take a major turn for the worst. What happens when somethings wants information that Sam can't give it? Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural except two books and season one DVDs. Written just for fun and stress relief. Don't sue

Author's note: This is my first fic in this fandom, and I am brand new to it. This is set in season one, probably before Faith. Please review, let me know what you think.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Sam Winchester said to his big brother approached the edge of the forest.

Dean turned to look him in the eye in the bright moonlight. "Like, a Han Solo type bad feeling, or a Danny Torrence type bad feeling?"

Sam made a face and thought about stating for the millionth time that just because he had the occasional premonition it did not make him the weird kid from _The Shining_. Instead, he simply muttered "Han Solo was usually right. The whole "Death Star" thing ring a bell?"

Dean shrugged, turning to face him full-on. "Ok… what do you want to do?"

"I don't know… I just-"

"You want to scrap the hunt? Go back into town and order a pizza and a few beers? Maybe take in a movie? Go to the beauty shop and get our nails done?"

Sam winced at his brother's sarcasm. "I just think we need to do some more research. We have no idea what's out there!"

Dean's expression softened as he realized his brother had a point. "Look, Sammy, I know we don't have much to go on. But tonight is the full moon, and there is as of yet no reason that two more people won't die like they did on the full moon every month for a year. Do you want to go back and research and just accept that people are going to die tonight, without even trying to fight for them? Can you live with that?"

It was a low blow, and Dean regretted it the second he said it. While he could be a cold, calculating bastard (which he was quite happy with, thank you very much), Sam _felt_ things on a much deeper level. He saw collateral damage, Sam saw a family destroyed beyond repair, the victim's actual pain and the devastation of the ones left behind. Seeing his brother's face twist as the words hit home, he opened his mouth to apologize, but Sam beat him to it. Sighing, he replied, "You're right… I've got enough faces haunting my sleep… Let's go."

Something about the resignation in his little brother's voice hit Dean clearly then. "What did you see?" He asked warily. He had pretended to still be asleep this morning when Sam sat straight up in bed with a cry of "No! Please!", assuming (hoping) that it was another nightmare about Jess. Not because he wanted Sam to have to relive that agony night after night, but because if he was dreaming of past horrors then he wasn't dreaming about future horrors. Ones that could still hurt/torture/maim/kill one or both of them.

Sam shrugged with one shoulder, not sure how to explain this. "I didn't see anything…" Dean's gaze pinned him down, demanding better than that, so he continued. "There was no picture, no actual dream. Just blackness, and the most profound fear and horror- call me a chick if you want, but the worst emotional pain I could possibly imagine. Like, crippling, debilitating psychological torture." He shook his head. "I don't know what it means, or if it even means anything. Forget I brought it up…"

Dean nodded, and tried to shrug it off. Really tried. But it seemed Sam's bad feeling was contagious. Still, they had a job to do. "We're ready for anything. We've got holy water, rock salt in the shotgun, silver bullets, and Dad's journal. Whatever's killing those people, we find it, we kill it, then we go get that pizza. Maybe even a movie. I'll pass on getting my nails done, but if that's what floats your boat…"

Sam snorted derisively. "Lead on, Captain."

Dean decided to let the "good little soldier" reference go, and stepped cautiously into the tree line.

"Okay…" Sam whispered to Dean. "So, any clue what he is?"

The pair stood watching as a short, pudgy demon with unfortunate fangs that formed a massive overbite was standing beside a huge bonfire, chanting. A book was balanced precariously in its left hand/claw/thing as he read. "No idea," replied Dean. "Dude… How does that thing chew its food?"

"Maybe it doesn't have to?" suggested Sam with a shrug. He spotted two people tied to trees on either side of the fire. "Got a plan?"

Dean looked at Sam with his trademark smirk. "More or less. Critter or victims?"

Sam rolled his eyes. This did look a little too easy, but his earlier fear wouldn't let go of his mind. "I'll get the hostages, you kill it."

Armed with the shotgun in one hand, a bottle of holy water in the other, and a pistol tucked into his belt, Dean nodded his agreement. "Ok. I'll cover you."

Sam crept out from behind the tree they were using as cover and circled around the demon and his ritual. He wasn't sure what the hell-spawn was trying to summon, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't bode well for the two people bound and gagged. At least, it hadn't for the previous 22 victims.

The man was closest, so Sam crept up beside him first. "It's ok, I'm here to help," he whispered as he went to work cutting the rough rope from the man's wrists.

His hands free, the man pulled the gag down. "Help my wife! I can get it from here."

Sam's mind involuntarily shot back to Jessica, and he shoved that thought forcefully away. He nodded and hurried to the other tree, leaving the man to untie his own ankles. The woman was bordering on hysteria –And who could blame her, really?- so Sam whispered soothing words as quietly as he could as he freed her. He was so engrossed with the task at hand that he wasn't overly concerned with what the demon was saying until one Latin phrase sank in and translated in his mind. _Cloud of Anguish_. His head jerked up, eyes wide. Oh, hell…

The woman, finally free from her bonds, sprinted off into the woods, making way too much noise. Thankfully the ritual involved total concentration on the part of the spellcaster. Sam nodded to Dean and pulled a pistol quickly from behind his back. Two victims a month, and this would be the 12th month. Tonight the ritual would have been complete. Good thing Dean hadn't listened to him… If the Cloud of Anguish rose, a whole lot of people would die. Horribly. But with the two intended victims gone, there would be no summoning. Time to take out the demon and go get that pizza.

Dean fired the shotgun at the demon. It barely flinched as the rock salt penetrated its body. Dean cocked and fired again, with the same result. Without even turning toward the elder Winchester brother, it held up a hand and a shock wave sent Dean flying into the tree he had been hiding behind.

As his brother hit the tree and slumped unconscious, Sam charged with his pistol. All these things have a head and a heart… shoot there and you can at least slow them down. It was still proceeding with the ritual. Didn't it realize that it's victims were gone? Sam raised the pistol to aim when it suddenly hit him… Hostages or not, there were still two humans here. Raising it's hand again, Sam froze, paralyzed in place by the creature, only able to watch in horror as the being said the last few words of the ritual. His heart hammered in his chest as he saw an inky blackness begin to rise from the fire. He was still unable to move, unable to run away, or even protect his brother. He took a small comfort in the fact that he was closest, he would go first, and Dean was still unconscious. Neither of them would have to watch the other die slowly and painfully as the Cloud dissolved any human flesh it cam in contact with. Hopefully, Dean wouldn't even feel it.

Just as he had resigned himself to his fate, He heard a soft _twang_ and something shot past him. The crossbow bolt embedded its self in the demon's chest, and it pitched forward, partially into the fire. The spell broken, Sam dropped to his knees in relief. Dean had saved them. He must have regained consciousness and- Wait a minute… Dean didn't bring a crossbow…

Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I've only gotten 2 reviews, but a whole bunch of story alert messages, so I'm going to go ahead and post the next chapter. Two things about this: First off, I am brand new to this fandom, and only watched Nightmare last night. So when I wrote the joke about Sam bending spoons, it was before I realized he might actually be able to. Second, I am leaving in an hour on a two-week mission trip to Poland. Hopefully I will have both time and internet access to update, but I might not. Also, please review... I hate air travel with a passion, so having a bunch of reviews in my inbox when I land would be awesome. Literally, hate flying. Like Dean in Phantom Traveler... Anyway, enjoy!

Sam came back to awareness to the sound of his brother's voice. Not the calm, soothing "Sammy? Wake up now, no more sleeping on the job!" that he was used to when he came back from being knocked out or whatever. Not the familiar sarcasm failing to cover the worry in Dean's voice when Sam had too close a call for comfort. This was anger, the kind of anger that covers fear.

Forcing himself to make out the words, he heard "What do you want from us, you bastard? Let us go!" This couldn't be good… Sam tried to reach for his pistol in his belt, but realized his arms were tied tightly above head. His eyes popped open as he became aware of his body. His wrists were tied to a tree branch well over his head, and his shoulders ached. He rose to the balls of his feet to take the pressure off them.

Dean was tied in front of him in an identical manner. _What the hell happened?_ The last thing Sam remembered was getting ready to enter the woods. And he had a bad feeling about things… "Dean?" he croaked.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here," Dean replied, "You okay?"

He was tired and too sore to bother correcting him, that his name was Sam, so he simply replied "I think so. What the hell happened?" Talking was painful. "And does my face look as bad as it feels?"

"Wish I could tell ya," Dean said. "But I have no idea. That little demon was telekinetic I guess, because it flung me into that tree and the lights went out. When I woke up, I was tied up like this and you were still down for the count. And yeah, the left side of your face is blistered all to hell. Did you fall in the fire?"

Sam tried to remember, but was coming up blank. "I have no idea, I can't remember. I don't even remember the fire. You say we were fighting a demon?"

Dean's eyes widened. "You don't remember the fight, Sammy?" His fear level ratcheted up a notch. If Sam had amnesia, it was either demonic or traumatic. Either way wasn't good. He didn't like things messing with his little brother's brain. "What do you remember?"

"We were heading for the woods… I had a bad feeling about this. And did you call me a girl?"

Dean grinned. "Something like that."

Sam nodded upward to his arms, in the position they were tied. "So the demon we were fighting did this?"

Shaking his head, Dean looked at the demon's corpse, partially in the bonfire it had been standing near. "Nope. I'm thinking whatever killed him did."

Ok, they still had no idea what they were facing. And Sam had a disconcertingly large hole in his memory. He pulled on the rope tying his hands, and succeeded only in abrading his wrists. The one binding his ankles together were equally secure, and he had to be very careful not to lose his balance and dislocate both his shoulders. "I'm stuck good. You got any give?" He watched Dean struggle similarly, wincing in sympathy as he almost fell, then righted himself.

"Nope," said Dean. "Unless your newfound ability to tap into the Force can bust us outta here…?"

Sam made an irritated face at him. "I have visions. Sometimes. I can't bend spoons, jerk!"

"Have you ever tried, bitch?"

Before Sam could respond, another voice cut in. "Well, well… isn't that a rude way to talk to him? Really, now, don't you have any manners?" Both brothers looked up from each other to see their captor. The voice had the tonal quality of a glass cutter, and the demon it belonged to seemed to fit it. Impossibly tall and thin, with mottled yellow and green skin, it bore no resemblance to the short, squat thing Dean remembered fighting.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you have to keep them in line, you know what I mean?" Dean's mind was racing for a way to get them out of this, and he figured keeping it talking was the best way to do that. "Of course you do… Were you the one that put down the little guy over there?"

The vicious-looking demon raised its upper lip in a snarl, exposing double rows of razor-sharp teeth. "Yes… It was an inconvenience that needed to be out of my way. How dare he try to raise the Cloud! A simple-minded creature like that could never hope to control such a power!"

_Cloud?_ Sam thought. Why did that mean something to him, and why couldn't he put the pieces together. That was important, he could feel it.

"Yeah, our thoughts exactly," Dean agreed. "So, see, we're on the same side. You can just let us down, and we'll go on our merry way and leave you alone."

The thing sneered, what it seemed to think passed for a smile. "I don't think that's going to happen, Dean Winchester." To Dean's credit, he didn't flinch at the demon's use of his name. "Yes, I know who you are. And you're brother Sam as well."

"How? I mean, are we famous? Do you want an autograph?" Sam gritted his teeth, wishing Dean would just shut up.

"I took it from your mind while you were out. And while I have no need for you at the moment, there is something that I need from your little brother." It turned away from him to face Sam, so it didn't see the cocky expression fade as his eyes widened in fear. This couldn't mean anything good.

It walked up to Sam, who fought hard not to squirm. "I just need one simple thing from you, boy, and I'll let you and your brother go."

"What do you want?" He asked, somewhat proud that his voice did not shake.

It's reddish-brown eyes met his blue-green ones. "I need to cast a spell. It was in the book that worthless creature was reading, but when he died he let it drop into the fire. I retrieved it as quickly as possible, but the last lines were already burned. You're going to give me the rest of the spell."

Unlike Dean, who seemed to have no qualms about saying the wrong thing and pissing off their inhuman captor, Sam really wanted to not further upset the situation. But there was only one thing to say to that: "Huh?"

"The spell. I need the last two lines of it."

"But… I don't know any spell! I have no idea what you are talking about!"

The creature's eyes narrowed, closing from side to side rather than up and down like human eyes, and for a moment, that disturbed Sam as much as the position they were in. "Don't even try to lie to me, child! You were standing right beside him when he finished the spell!" The last word came out in a menacing hiss, and any hope of this ending well was gone.

"But I blacked out!" Sam said urgently. "I don't remember anything past walking into the forest! I don't even remember the other… thing… I swear, I don't know any spell!" It hissed again, right next to Sam's ear, and he twisted a little, trying to break free. He met Dean's eyes, and saw the determination in them. Blood dripped down his brother's wrists from the effort of trying to pull loose from his bonds and help Sam.

"I was hoping you'd make it easy on yourself, boy, and that I wouldn't have to waste this kind of energy on you. But if you won't give me what I need, I will have to take it myself!"

It raised it's arms toward Sam's head, and he tried to pull away. All he managed to do was lose his balance and all his weight came down on his already abused shoulders. He heard Dean screaming his name as it planted one hand on each side of his head. Then he was the one screaming as unbearable pain exploded in his brain.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. We have only just now gotten to the place where we have reliable internet service. This chapter is a bit rougher on our boys than the last ones, and I hope I pulled it off okay. Please review. I need to know if I'm doing okay to be able to continue, First story for this and all... Dzien dobry:) ("good day" in Polish)

The blinding white light assaulted Sam's eyes a fraction of a second before the pain shot through his brain. It felt like the tissue its self was being torn apart with a rusty chainsaw. He tried to free himself, tried to pull away, tried to break the contact any way possible, but it was no use. Agony had drained his strength, and he was helpless against the onslaught. He slumped in his bonds, barely even feeling it as his shoulder dislocated, but couldn't reach the unconsciousness he so desperately sought. There was no respite from the pain.

Dean's wrists were bloody and raw, and his throat close from fighting to free himself to help his brother and from screaming his name (and a few insults to the demon, the demon's mother, it's spouse, and its species in general, hoping to distract it's wrath from Sam). He had no idea what it was doing to Sam, but he had never heard the younger Winchester scream like that. While he may be the baby brother, and Dean would do anything in his power to protect him and spare him, Sam was no stranger to pain and was by no means weak. No son of John Winchester screamed from a wound, even the near-fatal ones they occasioanlly had to seek medical help for. Dean had set and splinted Sammy's broken forearm with nothing more than a wince and a small pained cry. Whatever it was doing to him it had to be unbearable. He fought against the ropes with renewed vigor, trying to get free before it was too late for a classic _Indiana Jones_ type rescue.

After what seemed like an eternity to both boys, the demon let out an angry yell and jerked his hands away. Sam hung limply, supported by one good shoulder and one misplaced one, breathing in harsh, ragged gasps. When he was finally able to look up at his tormenter, it slapped his squarely across the face, snapping his head back with a force that made Dean wince. But Sam had too much other pain to deal with to even care. "You insolent, worthless little bucket of sludge!" It exclaimed, enraged. "How dare you! I demand you remove your shield this instant!"

Sam slowly rolled his head back around to face it. "What are you talking about now?" he demanded. He was well aware that he was about to sound very much like Dean, but at this point he really didn't care. His shoulder ached, he felt like his head was full of broken glass (and he wasn't at all sure whatever that thing had done to him wasn't about to end real quick with him dying of a stroke), his whole body felt like it was on fire, and he had no clue why. While he may be the more calm, cerebral, level-headed brother who tried to think before he spoke and consider the consequences, this friggin' pissed him off! "I don't have a shield, and even if I did, you would have taken it by now!"

Sam visably flinched as the creature drew back to slap him again, but held his ground as the cool, slightly moist, and definitely inhuman hand connected with the burned side of Sam's face. "Don't try to lie to me! The knowledge is in your brain! I can feel it there. But your cursed shield is blocking me! Remove it now!"

His voice shaking but eyes leveled at his tormentor, he said, "I'm not doing it. Whatever hit me must have done something to my head. If it's there, get it, like you did our names, or the fact that we are brothers."

The creature hissed again. "What do you think I was trying to do, cur? But if you insist, I can try again!" It reached for Sam's head again and he remembered that this was why one had to think things through before one spoke. Because sometimes the consequences were harsh.

Pain ripped through him again, and he screamed again, shredding his brother's heart (not that either of them would ever give voice to such a sentimental, chick-flick thought) but he was aware of neither. For way longer than Sam thought he could endure, there was nothing but pain. And blinding white light. And then it was gone again, leaving him weak and boneless, as near to his knees as the ropes around his wrists would allow.

The demon's temper tantrum lasted a little longer this time as the frustration of having failed twice angered it even more. It stopped just short of stomping its feet, but it seemed like a close thing. Had Sam not been in such obvious agony, Dean would have been amused. As it stood, however, Dean wasn't satisfied with it being angry and frustrated. He wanted to see it with it's insides on the outside. Preferably to _cause_ it's insides to be on the outside... maybe an inch at a time... What was it Rick Simon had said? "You're wildest dreams are nothing compared to my fantasies for revenge!"? And that had been over someone hurting his little brother, too. So if the brilliant detectives from Simon & Simon (one of the classics, in his opinion, _way _better than Magnum, P.I.) could indulge in a little sadistic fantasicizing, who was he to be above it? Besides, he wasn't getting loose, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to help Sam. So all he could do was try to focus his mind enough to focus on a plan. It would be much easier without Sam's screams echoing in his head.

Finishing it's tirade of cursing Sam with everything from fleas to herpes, threatening every type of mutilation one could come up with and then some (really, Sam wasn't sure some of the things it threatened were physically possible. And he didn't really want to find out...), he turned back to the wounded young man. It drew back a fist this time rather than an open hand, and Sam cringed away. It was more than Dean could take. "Hey, snake breath!" He screamed, louder than before. "Leave him alone! You want to mess with someone, mess with me!"

Sam shot him a look, shaking his head, but as usual Dean ignored him. So did the demon, raising it's hands again toward Sam's head. Dean didn't want Sam to go through tha again. Hell, _he_ didn't want to go through that again. "You got your people confused. I heard him, not my brother! I know the words!"

"Dean, no!" Sam tried to yell, but it came out as a pitiful plea that went unheard by both human and demon.

Dean went on. "I heard the last line. It went "Your momma sucks-"

Finally the creature lost patience with Dean's rambling. Picking up the discarded crossbow, it said "Would you please shut up already! I can read minds, you know!"

Dean knew it was a bad idea, but if it kept the away from Sam... "Not very well, obviously!"

It fired the crossbow, driving a bolt into Dean's left upper thigh. He let out a yelp of pain and surprise. Sam cried out his brother's name, and pulled himself to his feet, trying to pull free to get to him. The demon's head jerked up suddenly, catching the stray thoughts.

"Oh... well... What have we here?" It asked, a grin splitting it's already distorted features. "It seems I'm going about this the wrong way..."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Slightly shorter chapter, but it's been so busy here. In fact, it's after midnight now and we've got to be at it again in just a few hours. Did anyone out there know that in early June the sun comes up at 4 am in Poland? It's pretty disorienting. Anyway, just wanted to get another chapter up. It's more angsty, and I'm not really sure if this is going in the proper direction, but I'm trying. Thanks for all th reviews. Please keep them up. I'm nervous about this story and could use all the encouragement/advice I can get. Also, overlook any typos, my copy of MS Word gave out and I can't fix it until I get home. I'm using Wordpad, which is cool, but it doesn't catch my horrific typing like Word. Anyway, enjoy and please, please review:)

Sam's heart and stomach bottomed out, uniting themselves around the soles of his feet at those words. There had only been one thought in his mind when that crossbow bolt had been fired in Dean's direction, a reflex, and the wrong thing to think in the presence of a sadistic telepath: _Leave my brother alone! You want to mess with someone, mess with me!_ He couldn't help it, but it had accomplished two things. It had shown the demon the sole chink in his armor, the one weakness that could break him. It had also condemned his brother to the kind of pain he had been going through. Or worse. Dean was just a tool that would be used to hurt Sam, no different than a hot poker or thumbscrews, only more effective. It didn't matter if he survived. Sam had to stay alive until he gave it the spell, but Dean was expendable.

And of course, Sam thought to himself, it was a good strategy. It might even have worked under other circumstances. While he could and would take a great deal of pain for their cause, he wouldn't be able to stand by and watch Dean be tortured if he could stop it. Consequences be damned, he would betray just about anything they fought for to protect Dean from something like this. Except for the obvious problem that he didn't have the information, it might have worked. Of course, at this point, the rational part of his mind shut off, leaving him at the merccy of the scared ten-year-old who very rarely took control.

The demon mover toward Dean, and Sam renewed his struggles, despite the fire radiating down his dislocated shoulder. He finally drug his eyes up to meet Dean's, shame and self-recrimination clouding them. Pulling himself up a little straighter and putting on his 'big brother' facade, he held Sam's gaze for a moment, a small smirk crossing his face. Sam knew the look. It was the same one he had used countless times when he had taken the blame for one of Sam's many so-called failures in their father's eyes, the look he had given Sam when he was grounded or spanked instead of Sam, claiming it was him who left the window unlocked, or forgot to clean the shotgun after practice. The look that told Sam _Yeah, it's gonna hurt, but it's ok. Don't worry..._

Except this wasn't a grounding or a spanking. This wasn't even Dad with his belt for a major infraction. This was a very determined demon who believed that Sam was standing in the way of his "master plan". Who seemed to have the power to pull a person's brain apart. And had no motivation to keep Daen's brain intact, unlike Sam's.

Pulling him sharply out of his mind, the demon reached for Dean's face. Dean stood his ground, didn't flich back, and kept his eyes on Sam for a moment longer. Once this started, he would have to avert his eyes so Sammy wouldn't see the pain in his eyes. He had to be the strong one here, because if this thing was hurting him, it was leaving Sam alone. Giving Sam all the strength he had, he turned to face the demon. The cocky smirk hardened into a stone visage of anger and determination. "Bring it, bitch!" He muttered.

But it didn't dive into his brain like it had Sam's. It ran it's fingers down the side of his cheek, as if savoring it's new weapon. Seeing no reason not to show his disgust, he wrinkled his nose like he had been smacked with a dead fish. Grinning maliciously, it turned back to face Sam, it's hand still on Dean's skin. "You showed no signs of giving me what I wanted, even though you were in considerable pain. But when I tried to shut this annoying halfwit up, you were in more distress than anything I did to you caused. Could it be that if I want something out of you, what I have to do is make _him_ suffer?"

Sam's face tightened in anger. "I don't know what more I can say! I don't know your spell! If I did, I'd give it to you!"

It studied him for a moment. "You sound absolutely sincere. I would almost believe you... If I hadn't seen that what I need is in your mind."

"Then take it! If it's there, get it. The fact that you can't must mean it isn't there, right?" He didn't really believe logic would work with this demon, but he was desperate.

"Drop your shield," it snaled, "and I will. Without harming him."

"What do you mean by shield?" Sam asked, trying for calm and respectful but not quite making it. "I don't understand. I don't have a shield."

"When I try to access the area where the information is, there is a white wall that I can't get through. You must have put it there."

"I didn't put anything up." The desperate tone in his voice was getting more pronounced. "I swear I didn't! If I had the information, I would tell you so you don't hurt my brother. Please, you have to understand! You can't access it and I can't either. I don't know how. So this isn't going to serve any purpose. Anything you do to him is just going to be pointless sadism."

He had on his best "innocent victim" expression that had gotten them out of trouble so many times, and for a moment, Dean held out some hope that it might work. This demon might actually see reason and let them go. Maybe the night would still end with pizza and a movie. Hell, he'd even let Sammy pick the movie at this point. But then the demon turned back to face him and he knew a second before Sam did that it wasn't going to work. "It's a good thing, then," it said calmly, "that I enjoy pointless sadism." IT placed it's hand almost gently on the back of Dean's neck, and his world exploded in pain.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here's the new chapter! I hope you enjoy it. We were on our way home from Poland today when the plane had trouble forcing an emergency landing in Canada, so we missed our connecting flight and are stranded in New Jersey overnight. I hope this chapter works ok, I'm pretty tired, and at this point not even sure I'm typing in English. Please review:), and thanks for the prayers over the last 2 weeks.

With Sam, the pain had seemed to end abuptly, so Dean had expected relief when the creature removed it's hand from his neck, but there was only a slight improvement from the pain tearing through his chest. He couldn't draw in a full breath, and was trying so hard to keep the fear off his face. Keeping Sam from seeing the pain was a lost cause, but he could at least spare him the fear Dean was fighting. What the hell had that overgrown snake done to him?

Apparently the same question plagued Sam, because he demanded an answer. "What the hell did you do to him?" Snarling like a wild animal and pulling so hard against the ropes with his good arm that Dean worried he might break something, he turned his hate-filled eyes away from their captor to soften on his brother's anguished face. "Are you ok? What did he do?"

He had to answer Sam, or the boy would go into panicked overdrive and hurt himself worse. Really, if Sam got free with a dislocated shoulder _and_ a broken wrist, what good was he going to do them? Forcing his eyes to clear, he raised his head (ignoring the flash of pain the movement caused in his chest) and looked at Sam. "I'm ok, calm down. I don't break that easily."

"What did it do to you? What hurts?"

Figuring Sam would see through the easy lie, and lacking the strength for a better one, Dean told him the truth. "Feels like an elephant stepped on my chest. Hard to breathe."

"Just how do you expect him to be able to tell you what I did?" The demon asked, almost conversationally. "He has no idea, just felt the end result. Would you like me to explain it to you?" It didn't pause long enough to even respond to the "When I get loose, I'm gonna disembowel you with a butter knife" look Sam was giving him, but continued as if Sam had responded. "It's one of my gifts... Remarkably like my ability to search through your mind. I can manipulate his nervous system into believing whatever I choose. He was quite right about feeling like he was stepped on by an elephant... His nerves believe that all of his ribs are broken."

"So why is it still hurting him?" Sam asked. "You stopped, so why is he still in pain?"

The demon shrugged. "It may take a while for his body to figure out that it isn't really damaged. Now, are you going to see reason, or are you going to make him suffer even more?"

Sam knew that the last statement had been said specifically to get to him, but he couldn't help it. Tears blurred his vision, and he opened his mouth to plead again when it turned back to Dean. "Hmmm... shall we go with something a little more painful this time?"

Dean set his jaw, determined not to cry out, not to make it harder on Sam than it already was, and Sam's voice broke. "Don't, please! Don't hurt him again!"

It continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "I know... How about I show him what it feels like to have a branding iron on the soles of his feet?" Without giving Sam a chance to respond, it touched Dean's neck and it was all the elder Winchester could do to bite back a scream. The pain was past the point where his pride was a factor, and avoiding causing Sam further distress was the only reason strong enough to keep his mouth shut. It continued even longer, and there was no way to keep back the cry of pain that shoved it's way out of his throat.

Sam wasn't quite so placid though, muscles straining as he struggled, as if unable to take his brother's suffering without inflicting some on himself as well. The wounds on his wrists that had slowed in bleeding were flowing freely again but he didn't seem to notice. Dean may not be screaming, but Sam was. Not wordless cries of pain, but oddly Dean-like threats, insults, curses. The role-reversal would have struck both of them as funny under other circumstances. Especially when Sam called it a "bottom-feeding sociopath with a bug up it's butt the size of an emu", which made Dean choke, even through his pain.

Finally, just before Sam managed to dislocate his other shoulder, it removed it's hand and the worst of the pain faded, as if the brand was taken away from his skin. Standing on them was still excruciating, and he tried to gingerly put his weight on his shoulders. It didn't help much. But Sam was still fighting violently. "It's okay, Sammy..." He said, his voice quieter and weaker than he was happy with.

Sam's tears finally broke free and trailed down his face. "No it's not, Dean! I'm sorry!"

Forcing himself to look at his brother, he said "You should be... it's all your fault." Sam never flinched. That was not good. He wasn't looking for Dean to deny it, he truly hought he was just stating a fact. He simply couldn't let that stand. "Sam, don't be an idiot! This isn't your fault!"

Unable to accept his brother's absolution, he shook his head. "If I knew it, I'd tell him. I swear I would!"

Tears filled Dean's eyes and threatened to escape. He could take anything but seeing his little brother hurting this badly. "I know. You shouldn't and I'm not worth it, but I know."

Strength and determination filled him at those words. He had to do something to at least buy Dean some time to recover. He knew that whatever that thing was trying to summon couldn't possibly be good, but he just couldn't watch this thing torture his brother. Not if he could stop it. And he couldn't even try to think up a plan, not with a telepathic demon. Unless...

"Hey, Snake-breath!" He called, using Dean's earlier name for it. "Talk to me a minute." He focused deliberately on Dean's face, on the agonized posture and the quick, shallow breathing, letting the images fill his mind. It hurt, but if that was all the demon saw in his mind, this might work.

Thinking the battle was just about over, it grinned widely. "Yes? Something you want to tell me?"

Sam nodded grimly. "I can't take this. You win." _Dean's hurting, I have to save him. He can't breathe, needs a hospital. I can't take this..._ "The last line of the spell is 'Quod incendia e perussi him." He paused for a breath, long enough that the words didn't join to form the spell. "Quod is eram haud magis." Repeating his mantra in his mind to the exclusion of all else, he hoped it was enough.

It's nasty reptilian face spreading into a wide grin, the demon took a moment to savor it's victory. "Thank you," it said. "Now, please forgive me making a promise I had no intention of keeping, but the rising of the Cloud of Anguish requires the scarifice of two humans on every full moon for a year. And since you were so kind as to volunteer by freeing the intended victims, you two will make up the final sacrifice. I must say, you were stronger than I had-" He cut of abruptly and turned to Dean. "Really, dear boy..." he said, eyes widening intently. "You should be more careful with your thoughts... You're brother's plan might have worked..." It turned to Sam, eyes flashing dangerously. "You were trying to kill me! And would have succeeded if your brother hadn't recognized the spell!"

Sam's eyes widened even more, and not just that they had been caught. Scattered pieces fell together in his damaged mind. _ Cloud of Anguish_! That was what the other demon must have been trying to raise. It must have succeeded, and touched Sam. That explained it all! The blistered face, the amnesia, everything! The cloud was a a slave to whoever summons it, and anything human that it comes in contact with simply disovles. It myst have touched Sam, and that was why the information about it was inaccessable. That part of his brain, the part that was engaged during the attack, was damaged. This was very bad. And about to get worse...

The demon was still talking angrily. "That spell would have set me on fire!" It's eyes glittered dangerously. "Let's see how your brother likes it!"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter seemed longer when I wrote it... Anyway, this might be getting a bit redundant, but I swear it is going somewhere! For all those interested, I made it home safe and sound and am back to work. The second half of my team will be coming home tomorrow, so please pray for safe travelling for Doc, Joel, and Brenton. I'm at work, so if it's a slow night and day for EMS, I'll try to have the new chapter up tomorrow. Please review, though, so I'll know you want the new chapter :) Yes, I know I'm a bit evil, lol..

Dean was in hell. There could be no other explanation for this. Surely the demon wasn't this good, this skilled. Every inch of his body really had to be on fire. No pain he had ever felt could compare to this. A tortured scream echoed through his head, which he had assumed was Sammy, and was surprised to realize it was his own. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, berating himself for doing that to Sam. Unable to open his eyes, he had to assume that everything still looked perfectly normal on the outside (other than his writhing in obvious pain). So the only thing that could clue Sam in to the horror he was suffering was his reaction. Setting his jaw, he engaged every ounce of energy into holding it together, being strong. Then an even stronger wave of agony ripped through him, head to toe, and another raw scream was torn from his throat.

If Dean was in hell, Sam was in the deepest pits of it. Tears ran unchecked and unnoticed down his face as the blood ran down his arms. He had never heard Dean scream. Ever. And it almost made it worse that he could see no physical damage to Dean's body. While seeing wounds on his brother's body hurt him on a deeper level than his own injuries could, it was at least something. A wound was another enemy, one that could be fought (treatment) and conqured (healing). But the only enemy here was the demon and if Sam could just get loose he would end the smug creature. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished for a few minutes with the creature with his hands free. And a chainsaw...

Instead of slacking off, Dean's struggles seemed to increase, and something inside Sam broke. Unnoticed tears gave way to great racking sobs, and he was barely aware that he was screaming his brother's name in the same hoarse, agonized tone as Dean's scream. How long could his body endure this level of torment? How long could his mind take it? How long before Dean was irrepairably damaged? How long before he hated Sam for putting him through this? He no longer felt the pain in his dislocated shoulder as he fell towards his knees, his legs no longer capable of holding his weight. In a voice he barely recognized as his own, he cried out to the demon. "Stop it! Please! Let him go! If you want a play-toy, mess with me! Let my brother go!"

It seemed to consider it for an eternity, hand still on Dean's neck. The elder Winchester was beyond screaming now, down to only a weak cry now and then as his body and mind reached the point of exhaustion. Finally, it removed it's hand, and Dean slumped semi-conscious. Sam continued to fight with the bloodstained ropes to get to him, but it was no use. "Untie me!" he begged. "I won't run, I won't go anywhere, just let me go to him, please!"

Raising its rust-red eyes to Sam, it growled. "You want to help him? Then tell me what I want to know!" Hate-filled, near-feral eyes met them defiantly. "I'm growing tired of asking," it said, "and time is running short. You may think you can hold out to sunrise and this is over, but I can assure you that your brother will not survive the next three hours. Or maybe he should, but just never be the same..." It shrugged casually, as if discussing whether or not it would rain the next day. "Either way, it's going to be on you!"

A weak groan from behind their tormentor caught his attention. Dean raised his head to look at his brother, assessing his condition. Satisfied that Sam hadn't been physically harmed while he was fading in and out. ""It's okay, Sammy," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

That was all Sam could take. No, it wasn't ok! Not even friggin' close to okay, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it! If he knew what this thing wanted,he would give it up! Even knowing that he could doom most of humanity of not all, that it would kill both of them right there, he would tell this evil thing what it wanted to know because even dying was better than watching Dean being tortured like this!

Turning his eyes reluctantly from his brother, he stared the demon down. If looks could kill, this thing would have been dead, buried, dug up again, salted, burned, and reburied. Violence no one would have thought the younger Winchester capable of was promised in his eyes. "Leave him alone." He demanded calmly. "He can't tell you anything, I can't tell you anything. There's only one way to get what you want." He had the thing's attention now, so he forced off the edge in his voice. It was harder than he expected it to be. "Go back into my head," He said. "Go in and dig around or whatever and stay there until you find it! Don't leave until you break the shield and get what you want."

Dean was suddenly fully aware again at that proposal. "Stay the hell out of his head!" He demanded.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, without inflection in his voice or even a glance in Dean's direction. "If you insist it's there, go find it!"

The demon seemed conflicted at the plan. "It's not that simple... If I fight that hard inside your mind, there could be unacceptable damage done. The part of your brain holding the information could be damaged. You could even die. For the moment, I need you alive with your brain intact. Afterwards, it doesn't matter, but until I get the information... and the Cloud needs two human sacrifices..."

"Are you not listening?" Sam exploded. "The Cloud touched me before you killed it's last summoner! My brain is already damaged! Look at my face! If I could tell you, I would, but I can't, so the only way for you to find what you need to know is to go in and get it!" Looking at Dean for a moment, his heart braking at the pain that was so obvious from his body language, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I'd rather you shredded my brain than to keep doing this to my brother. Please..." He closed his eyes and dropped his head, preparing for the mental assault.

Looking back and forth between the brothers, then shrugged. "Okay... If you insist..."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know this is a little shorter than the others, but it was just such a perfect place to end it. Yes, I am that evil. And cruel. And you may threaten me with whatever you choose in your reviews for doing this to you (and to Sam and Dean), as long as you review. But, I'm not sadistic enough to leave it like this for long. As long as the EMS world cooperates and people let me know they're interested, new chapter tomorrow:)

Sam bit down on his lip hard enough that he tasted blood in his mouth to avoid crying out as the white-hot pain slammed into his head. He knew how badly Dean's screaming had hurt him and was determined to spare him. The demon's presence tore through his consciousness, pressure building inside his skull until he was certain it would crack under the pressure. As bad as the pain had been before, it was doubled as the demon's desperation fueld it's search. And Sam was pretty sure it was taking out some of it's anger on him in the process. He could feel it tearing through his memories, his thoughts, everything before colliding with the barrier. His body rocked with the force of the blow as it tried to break through.

Clenching his teeth against the building cry, he was able to keep back all but a pitiful whimper as it slammed into the barrier again. The demon let out a groan from the strain, and Sam felt something dripping as his nose started to bleed. Forcing his eyes open, he was confronted with the look of simple, stark terror on Dean's face. Did he look that bad?

Dean was screaming again, pleading with the demon, and that scared Sam more than anything. Dean didn't plead. He cursed, he threatened, he fought. There had never been a situation where those reactions didn't work. More blood poured from his nose, a torrent of it now. This was about to end, one way or another. Either the creature would find it and kill them, or his brain would rupture and he would die. He hoped if that happened, Dean would die quickly. There was no hope that their captor would simply set him free, he just hoped that it wouldn't take it's rage out on his brother. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

The world around him had taken on a dream-like state, and had grown fuzzy. He wasn't sure if he was losing consciousness or if the it was because the demon was messing with his brain. Was this what it meant by brain damage? Was he just going to fall into a fog and that be the end? Considering all they had seen, there were worse ways to go. But leaving Dean like that, alone with no way out... He had to hold on just a little longer. He tried to focus on something, anything, and lacking anything else to keep his focus he met his brother's tear-filled green eyes. The look on Dean's face was enough to clear the fog. Dean was scared. Dean didn't have some crazy rescue plan he was waiting for the right moment to implement. Dean thought they were going to die.

The pickaxe that was repeatedly driven into his brain was making it hard to hang on to clarity, but he forced himself to, only closing his eyes for a second to try to manage the pain. Seeing Sam was finally able focus, Dean spoke softly. "Are you okay? Is that thing still..." He nodded vaguely toSam's head. "In there?"

"Yeah," Sam said, cringing at a particularly harsh wave of pain. "Still there."

Dean didn't want to ask, didn't want to know, but the his masochistic side left him with no choice. "Is it bad?"

Sam didn't want to answer, but not doing so would do even more damage. "Bad enough. Listen, Dean..." He wasn't sure how to say what needed to be said.

"Sammy, don't! Fight this thing!"

"I am fighting!" He exclaimed. "But this isn't going to end well, you know that!" The pain overwhelmed him and he had to stop for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as the fire ripped through his brain. This made his vision-headaches feel like a scalp massage. Finally, he was able to continue. "I want you to know-"

Dean wasn't about to let him say it. If he let him say it, Sam might think he had permission to give up, and he most certainly didn't. If he let him have an emotional moment, let him say how he felt, let him say that forbidden word -_goodbye-_ then he might let go. He might accept his death, and Dean couldn't do that. "No, Sammy! You're not giving up and you're not having some chick-flick moment because YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE! I'm your big brother and you are not allowed to die!"

Sam forced smile. "I love you, Dean. And I-"

Again, he was interrupted, but not by Dean. The pain suddenly vanished from his head and they heard an angry growl from beside him as the demon pulled it's hand away. A small trickle of blood leaked out of Sam's ear, tickling a little. His eyes suddenly widened. The bleeding from his nose had slowed some, but was still going. He gasped, then went limp in his bonds, eyes rolling back in his head, saliva frothing at his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So, here it is... The answer to the horrible cliffhanger I left you guys with. Thanks for all the awesome reviews! You guys are great! There will probably only be one more chapter after this. I hope this lives up to your expectations. I was watching Friday the 13th while watching this (and Cry_Wolf. Couldn't find House of Wax, though... I was on a Jared Padalecki kick this weekend) and that might have influenced it just a little. Anyway, please review and let me know if I pulled this off or not:)

Dean had never been so scared in his life. Ever. Even the time their dad had left them alone to hunt and the werewolve he was hunting had found the boys. Then, he had only been seven, but he knew how to kill it and protect his baby brother. Now, though... he watched Sam's body convulse in what had to be a grand mal seizure, foaming at the mouth, and still hanging by the ropes around his wrists. He was helpless. There was no silver bullet this time, no magic incantation to drive away the monster, not even a handy medevac chopper or half-wit sheriff's deputy. His baby brother was dying and there wasn't a damn thing he could do.

"Sammy!" he screamed in terror as he watched the most horrifying sight of his life. "Hang on! Please hang on!" He turned pleading eyes on the demon, too deep in agony to even manage anger. He no longer cared about killing the demon. It could summon whatever it pleased, could bring the devil its self to Earth for all Dean cared. He just wanted to save his brother. "What did you do to him? Please, you have to help him!"

It's voice no longer steady, uncertain, it replied. "I told him this might happen. I fought against the shield with everything I had, and I failed. Apparently his brain wasn't able to take it."

Despair filled Dean. Their only hope lay in the creature that had destroyed Sam's brain. "But... if he dies, or has a stroke or whatever he's having, you'll never get your spell. You have to help him!"

"But..." It paused, it's cocky, self-assured manner gone. "I... I don't know what to do! I've never tried to... help... a human before!"

Sam's body stopped convulsing, except for an occasional twitch, and Dean's pleas became more frantic. "But if you don't you'll never get you spell... Hey, maybe if we get him awake again this broke through the shield and he can tell you and then you can summon it or whatever! Just help him! He's no good to you dead!" _Or as a vegetable..._ _God, please don't let him live with his brain damaged. If he's not going to be Sam -my Sam- let him die..._ "If he dies, you're never going to summon your cloud-of-whatever and I'm guessing it's pretty important to your plan, maybe even the lynchpin or whatever, so you need him alive!" _And right in the head._

As horrific as the thought of Sammy dying was, Dean was assaulted by an even worse series of images: Sammy laying immobile in a hospital bed, vacant eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Sammy slumped in a wheelchair in what had to be an uncomfortable position but not caring because it was just a body now, still breathing and the heart still beating, but not Sam anymore. And even worse... The idea that Sam might still be in there, his mind and soul still active as ever, but trapped within an unresponsive body with no way to move, communicate, or even let anyone know he was still there. The worst kind of torture imaginable, and the very though completely broke Dean. He sobbed freely, no longer worried about being the tough guy, no one could be expected to endure this stoically. "Please!" he begged. "I don't think he's breathing! You have to cut him down and try to open his airway, hurry!"

Weighing the options, the creature decided Dean was right. Without Sam alive and mentally intact, it had nothing. With a nod, it pulled a knife from it's belt and moved toward Sam.

It was without a doubt the hardest thing Sam had ever had to do. Not faking the seizure, or keeping his mind so full of random images so the demon would think it had thoroughly scrambled his brain and therefore discern his true intentions, or even hanging by his dislocated shoulder. The first was easy, the second two were doable. But doing this to Dean, scaring him like this, _hurting_ him like this, was like cutting out his own heart. This was the same damn thing the demon was doing to him, and now he was doing it to Dean. He had to keep pushing that thought away because it was too clear, too coherent, (too painful) to be the pointless ramblings of a shattered mind. If there was any way he could give Dean a sign, let him know he was faking, to spare him the pain of believing this, he would in a second. But then the demon would see it in Dean's mind. His last plan had failed because Dean saw through it, so this time he had to fool Dean as well.

The demon wanted him alive. And as long as it was all working according to it's plan, they were stuck. But when it's plan got derailed, they might have a chance... and the one holding the only access to it's spell suddenly having a seizure or stroke or whatever would definitely be a gap in the tracks. He heard Dean's plaintive begging become more desperate as he stopped convulsing and hung limply. As much as he knew it would kill his brother, he had to finish this and save them both. He slowed his breathing to shallow, nearly imperceptable breaths. Someone watching him wouldn't be able to see his chest rise and fall. Dean wouldn't be able to see it, and would think that he stopped breathing. Tears escaped his closed eyelids, but no one noticed.

He forced himself to remain limp and fall like a broken doll to the ground when the demon cut the rope. Continuing to focus on a scattering of random thoughts, never allowing one to linger for more than a matter of seconds, he waited for the right moment. His face scrunched together as if in pain, he was able to conceal the tiny crack he was seeing through. The monster put it's cold hands on his neck, and finding a racing pulse, called back to Dean, asking what to do. When he told it to check his airway, the oppertunity he was looking for came. The demon put it's knife down and reached for Sam's throat.

Grabbing the knife, the illusion was broken as his thoughts became clear again. But it was too little, too late. The demon cried out in anger and pushed down on Sam's windpipe, just as he drove the knife into it's midsection and pulled up. The pressure on his throat slacked to the simple weight of a dead thing. He shifted, and disgusting red-black blood seeped out of the gutted demon, covering Sam's chest and abdomen. Disgusted and relieved in turn, he shoved it away from him and rolled to his feet. "Dean?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Here it is... the final chapter! I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. Of course, it's not the way normal people would handle the situation, but it's not normal people. It's the Winchester brothers. And for the record, I love Twilight. I just can see this discussion going on between our boys. Review, let me know how I did, and whether or not I should try again in this fandom:) Thanks for following me this far, and I hope you enjoy!

Dean was having a hard time following things. First Sam was hurt. Then he was having some kind of seizure. Then he wasn't breathing. And now he was totally kicking some demon ass. Ok... Had he fallen through the looking glass? Maybe he got hit harder than he thought. But he didn't care. Sam was alive. Not only alive, but from his fighting instincts, he was okay! Tears of happiness (which showed how distraught his mental state was, he thought... He would never admit that, not even to himself!) filled his eyes as the grin overtook his face. "Sammy? What the hell, man?"

Sam hurried over to him. "I'll explain, but we gotta get out of here! How bad are your feet? If I cut the rope, can you stand? I can't catch you right now." He gestured to his injured shoulder.

Dean nodded swiftly. Of course he could. His feet still hurt, but he could walk barefoot on a mile of burning coals if that's what it took to get out of here. "Yeah. Get me down. Then while we run like hell, you can explain your whole Edward Cullen thing over there."

Sam paused in cutting the rope for a second. "Dude! How do you know who Edward Cullen is? Did you read Twilight?" He cut through the rope, flying on the adrenaline rush and the new weapon to tease his brother about.

Making a face, Dean went into full denial mode. "Of course not! I mean, besdies being the girliest book on the planet, it's moronic. Who ever heard of vampires that sparkle in the sun instead of bursting into-" He realized he had said too much as Sam started laughing. "Okay, there was this chick, she was hot, blond, and totally obsessed with the book. It was a means to an end... All I had to say was that so many people misunderstood Edward's desire not to be a monster, and she was putty in my hands."

Even trying with all his might to keep a straight face, Sam snickered at that as he cut the last rope. "You nearly drowned me in estrogen just saying that!"

The last rope finally snapped and as Sam had predicted, Dean crashed almost instantly to the ground, trying without success to suppress a cry as his weight came down on his feet. Sam of course, tried to catch him, jarring his dislocated shoulder and falling beside him. Laying there for a moment trying to catch their breath and recover from the pain, Dean asked again. "So what happened just then? I thought you were dying. Or dead. Or worse."

That caught Sam's attention. "Or worse?"

Unwilling to share his nightmarish thoughts with his brother, Dean went back to the original question. "Did you get better or what?"

Sam winced and looked away. He didn't want to have this conversation, which was a switch. Usually he was the one forcing Dean to have conversations he didn't want to. And if it felt this bad, he would have to stop doing that to him, because the guilt was already eating at him. He knew what he had put Dean through, and he just hoped his brother would forgive him. "There was never anything wrong with me."

Whatever Dean was expecting, that wasn't it. "Say what?"

As hard as it might be, a Winchester never ran from pain simply for the sake of comfort, so Sam turned back and looked Dean in the eye waiting for the recriminations. "I was faking, Dean. I didn't have a seizure or anything. I could feel the blood coming from my ear and when it pulled away, the thought came to me that it needed me alive and mentally intact. So it might cut me down to revive me..."

Dean's wide, startled eyes stared into his, and guilt gnawed another hole through his guts. "You were faking the whole time?"

"Well, not the whole time. It hurt like crazy, and then when the pressure build up and my nose and ear started bleeding, I took advantage of it."

"I believed you," Dean whispered, not sure he intended Sam to hear.

Sam did hear, and a reminder of earlier pain flared up in him. Someone had caused Dean pain. And this time, he couldn't even kick the ass of the one who did it. At least not without losing his balance. "Dean, I'm really sorry I had to put you through that. I can't imagine how it would have felt to think I was watching you die. I wish I could have given you some kind of a sign or something but-"

"But Snakey would have seen it in my head and it would have gotten nasty." Dean grinned, about half out of relief that they were both okay and half to relieve Sam of guilt. "Sam, that was friggin' brilliant! And an awesome acting job." He resisted the shudder that tried to work its way up his spine as the memory replayed in his mind. It was one that would fuel nightmares for a long time, but Sam didn't need to know that. All he needed to know right now was that he had done good. "You got to be the hero this time, little brother. But don't get used to it... Saving your ass is my gig!"

Feeling slightly better, Sam sat up, then cradled his shoulder. "Since you're so big on being the hero and all, think you can put this back where it goes for me?"

Dean shrugged and pretended to consider it. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." Sam turned toward him and looked away as Dean manipulated the bone back into the joint. Biting hard on a bandana Dean had handed him (usually his shirt sleeve would suffice, but considering he was currently covered in demon ichor, he was not biting on it) he supressed the cry of pain as it popped home. Dean fashioned a sling out of the dark work shirt he wore over his t-shirt and immobilized his arm.

His shoulder as well-repaired as it could get in the woods at 4 am, Sam turned to Dean. "Let me see your feet." Laying back on the grass, Dean kicked his shoed off and raised a foot to Sam's hand. Considering the pain the elder Winchester had been in, it seemed like something out of the Twilight Zone that there wasn't a mark on Dean's foot. Not even a reddening of the skin. Nothing. Sam ran his finger down the middle of his foot in amazement, and Dean tried to jerk his foot back.

"Did that hurt?" he asked.

"Nah," said Dean. "It's like my ribs, my body seems to be realizing that I'm not really injured. I think it's okay now."

"Then why'd you jerk back?" Sam asked.

"Because we need to get on the road. Out of here. You know, we're in the middle of the woods and have to walk back and..." He trailed off.

The wheels ticked in Sam's mind. "If it didn't hurt... Dean, you're not ticklish, so..." Dean flinched, and a smile crossed Sam's face. "You've never been ticklish. You used to put me through hell as a kid and I could never retaliate because you weren't." Just to prove his theory, he ran his fingernail down the sole of Dean's foot again. Dean suppressed a whimpered laugh and tried to pull away again but Sam held his foot tight.

"But tonight, I've had a demon messing around with the nerves in my foot," Dean reminded him through gritted teeth. Man, if what he just felt was what he had put Sammy through as a kid, he owed him a major apology.

The reminder of what had transpired snapped Sam out of it, and he let go of Dean's foot. "Sorry. You're right. We need to get going. Think you can walk?"

Dean pulled his shoe back on, and accepted Sam's offered hand. A small flash of pain shot through his feet, but he was able to stand it. After a moment, even that passed. Grabbing the duffel bag from the outside of the clearing, he eyed the demon's crossbow. He would kinda like to take it, but he was too weak to carry it and the other weapons, and Sammy had a wounded shoulder. Besides, being shot with a weapon kinda stained it in his mind. It couls stay where it was.

"Uh..." Said Sam. "You remember the way out of here?"

"Sure," said Dean. "I have us back to the motel in no time. And you can shower so you don't smell like rotting reptile anymore. Then pizza, beer and a movie. Celebrate." He flashed a grin.

"What movie?"

He shrugged. "I don't kow. You got one in mind?"

Sam couldn't suppress the grin as they walked slowly back toward the Impala. "I don't know... I was thinking Twilight."

The darkness covered Dean's smirk, but Sam could hear it loud and clear in his voice. "Bitch."

It was equally clear in Sam's. "Jerk."


End file.
